Catcher's Christmas Miracle
by Wolvierules88
Summary: "This thing they call Christmas. It means all good things. It means happiness, and lots of food to eat. It means family. And love. And magic, too."  Dream Catcher learns the meaning of Christmas, and miracles, and the power of love.


The continuing story of the mutant cat, Dream Catcher.

It's Christmas, a major snow storm is blowing in, and Logan decides to take Dream Catcher somewhere safe.

This is a tale of magic, and the belief that anything is possible.

All thanks and heartfelt get well wishes to my friend Aldebaran, who wanted so badly to beta this story, even after major surgery and eye troubles. In spite of these problems you gave me some great ideas for this story that changed the direction of Catcher's life. Thank you! My stories are so much better because of you. This is for you my friend!

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**Catcher's Christmas Miracle**

He knew the man would be back.

Because he always came back, eventually. This was a constant in Dream Catcher's life, a comfort, knowing without doubt that Logan would return.

He'd been gone longer this time than any other time. Long enough that the big blue bowl of crunchies had run out, licked clean just the night before of every last crumb and looking rather forlorn now without its usual bounty spilling over the sides.

Dream Catcher missed Logan, and yearned for his return. It had been _too_ long. Yesterday he had contemplated for the briefest of moments leaving the small cabin to search for him but the idea brought with it such an unsettling mix of raw emotions he knew he would not attempt it. He needed only to continue waiting. His time of searching was over, finished long ago. He remembered all too clearly the long months of prowling the nearby town for his young owner Amber. He had found a new life with his wandering, a life of blessed quiet and solitude among the trees and brush of the forest, away from the frenetic activities of men. While he had loved all of this, the woods, the freedom the forest gave him and its many sounds and smells and tastes, he had come in time to know that it wasn't enough. For in addition to the agreeable aspects of his new life he had also experienced lingering hunger, fear, pain, and most distressing of all, a sore and terribly lonely heart.

But something special had also happened during that long alone time. That barren path he was treading had led him here. To the man, Logan. _His_ man. And, miraculously, from Catcher's great loss had come fulfillment. Out of intense loneliness had blossomed companionship and love. He was _supposed_ to be with the man. This was an enticing, pleasant thought, one he enjoyed dwelling on. For theirs was a symbiotic relationship, Logan and he, each of them fulfilling needs for the other that could not be filled alone.

He had earned his proud name by keeping the hidden nighttime menace away, so their slumber now was seldom if ever rent by Logan's cries as he thrashed in the throes of a nightmare. And in return his man had offered to him the easy companionship of equals, a special sort of understanding that went far deeper than the concept of owner and pet. They understood each other. They were connected. They were alike. Two parts of a whole, better together than apart. Catcher couldn't understand it intellectually but his soul resonated with it, and he knew without a shred of uncertainty that this was where he was meant to be.

And so, he waited. He understood waiting, and patience. Good things usually came to those with enough patience. Just look how it was at the mouse holes. He settled himself on the wide wooden ledge of the big window that faced the same way as the cabin's door. Feet tucked beneath him and tail wrapped warmly around his body, tip idly flicking against his chest, he watched the forest outside. Observed the sky paling as morning came. Watched the clouds lowering, winds gusting harder and harder, and then snow, falling, falling, falling. Endlessly it fell, heavy at times, light at others, but always coming down, blowing against the tree trunks, accumulating on top of the bushes, covering the small porch and railings with a thick blanket of swirled white.

And then, late in the afternoon the welcome warmth of _knowing_ washed over him like a kiss of summer sunlight, that deep sense of certainty welling up from his center that told him unerringly that Logan was on his way, would be here very soon. He had felt that heady surge many times before, and it was always right. Logan was coming! Logan was close! Catcher peered eagerly out at the storm. Moments later a dark shape emerged from the forest, sheets of undulating, blowing snow obscuring it, making it disappear, then reappear suddenly closer. It was him. Logan was here!

Gladly Catcher stretched, jumped from the sill just as the door flew open, a violent gust of wind wrenching it from the man's grip and flinging it against the wall behind in an explosion of snow and cold and blizzardy, blasting air.

The man quickly shoved it closed, turning, seeking Catcher's whereabouts. Dancing snowflakes, cut off from their life-giving cold and animating wind, dropped, melting instantly on the wood floor, the rag rug. The cat crept around the small couch where he had taken cover from the blustery commotion of Logan's entrance, picking his careful way around patterns of icy-cold, quivering snow-drops. The man's clothing was torn, the scent of blood coming strongly from him. Catcher sniffed Logan's legs carefully. The man frequently came home smelling of blood, his own, someone else's, and it always disturbed him. He was compelled to spend several long moments sniffing the stains, puzzling out how many individuals had contributed to them, what species they were, and, most upsetting of all, if any of the bleeders had bled enough to possibly cease living. His nose told him this time there were no casualties, at least none of the human kind.

"Hey, Catcher," Logan said, "How ya been?" Catcher chirped a reply, and the man grinned. "Hell of a storm comin', boy. 'Bout half the state's gonna be snowed in."

The cat wound himself happily around two wet, booted feet as the man stepped to his food dish.

"Damn. Sorry, fella," Logan murmured, frowning into its clean, ceramic emptiness. Catcher waited eagerly. His man filled the bowl with delicious, delectable crunchies, leaned against the sill to watch him eat. Searched his pockets, lit up a smoke. This was good. Catcher liked the man's smoky scents. The mouth-smoke scent wasn't as nice as the fireplace smoke, but it was all part of Logan's special aroma, and it made the cat happy, to smell it again.

"We're gonna have t' leave here for a while, Catcher," Logan said to him as the cat finished his meal. "Wish like hell we could stay here by ourselves, you 'n' me an' Jubilee. But this storm's headin' directly for us, an' it's a big one. We're short on supplies. Gonna have take you to the mansion, where it's safer, where there's people." Catcher glanced up from his dish. Take him somewhere? Why? It was perfectly nice here, storm or no storm.

Belly pleasantly full and after-dinner wash completed, Dream Catcher retreated to the hearth, impatient for Logan to continue the coming home ritual by lighting the logs within and stretching out on the small couch. He was anxious to sit once again on the man's strong chest, smell his unique scent, maybe lick his nose a few times. All part of the routine. It was comforting, these little reunion things they always did. But instead Logan pulled the rest of the shades over the windows and locked down Catcher's special, small door to the back yard. Strangest of all, he dumped the leftover crunchies back into the big bag and stuffed that and his bowl into a sack that had long, padded straps hanging from it.

"Okay. Got your tucker packed. You won't need anything else, like your blanket. 'Bout a million places for you to sleep over there."

What was going on? Over _there_? Was he really going somewhere? Something was definitely up, and Catcher wasn't sure he wanted to know what it was. He circled around to the couch, ready to dart beneath it if the need arose. His man's scent was a little excited. Expectant. Slightly tense. Warily he watched Logan open a few buttons on his shirt, tuck the tails into his pants. Shrug back into his jacket and crouch before him, speaking softly, soothingly.

"I know, boy. You ain't too fond o' people you don't know. Or strange places. Me either. Guess we're both a touch skittish that way. But you know what? Most people are okay, if give 'em half a chance. You just gotta set some boundaries. I'll help you out with that. An' I think you'll like Chuck's place. C'mere, Catcher. It's okay."

The cat came to him, rubbed his cheeks and lips against the proffered hand. Logan said it was alright. He trusted Logan.

His man was in a talkative mood. Catcher listened closely. Logan was habitually taciturn with people but spoke freely with Catcher, and Catcher enjoyed listening to his man, knowing he was one of the few to ever hear Logan's running thoughts, his mind meanderings.

"Been thinkin'. You got a rare talent, fella," his man went on. "Never met anybody can do what you can, mutant or animal. There's some kids back at the mansion that really could use your help. Troubled kids, without families. I hear 'em sometimes, cryin' out in the night..." Here Logan paused, scrubbed his face with his hand, scratched a sideburn. "Anyway. Like for you to meet 'em. Maybe you could do something." Catcher stepped up, onto his man's knee. "Wish you could help 'em out, the way you help me."

Help them? Did he mean help the children by keeping the night beast away? So Logan wasn't the only person plagued by that creature? How awful, but how interesting. Maybe he _could_ help out those children. He could hunt and prowl, guard and watch, and keep the children safe in their sleep. The idea made him shiver in anticipation. He _was_ very good at what he did. He would like to try to do this. Was it possible? Maybe his man was the only person his talents worked on.

So it was alright. There was no need to worry. They were going to a good place, to do good things. Logan opened his jacket, his shirt, held them wide and Catcher stepped right in, burrowing down against warm skin, twisting around to face forward. Logan chuckled, patted him hard, and quickly buttoned up. Catcher found himself in a snug sort of sling, body supported by tucked-in shirt beneath him. He was cradled, supported nicely, and actually quite comfortable. He could feel the man's heartbeat. He liked that, it was almost like sitting on his chest.

He felt Logan arranging him briefly against his belly. Picking up the pack and slinging it on, and then stepping briskly from the cabin, out into the blowing cold.

Catcher nosed around and managed to poke his face between buttons, out into open wind that was blasting almost directly at them. He caught a glimpse of bowed trees and sheets of white streaking past before ducking back inside. It made him nervous, all that cold and blow and snow. He didn't want to be out in it but his trust in the man was complete so he nestled down against the man's stomach to wait and see what happened next.

The man walked. Walked and walked, an arm crooked against his side to support Catcher's weight. After a time his steps changed, and his direction. He was walking in a straight line now, with long, quick strides. Soon Catcher could smell people, and buildings, and then a door opened. The man went right in, kept walking, answering with a murmur the greeting of someone passing. What _was_ this place?

Stairs. Up, up, stair after stair. Another walk, shorter, a corner turned, through another door, and then the man sighed, slung the pack to the floor and opened his jacket and shirt.

They were in a room. Catcher jumped down and darted beneath the bed. A small room, sparse. Window. Dresser. Big soft chair in one corner. A rag rug, like the one at the cabin. From his hiding place he watched the man fill his food dish with crunchies, then sit down heavily on the bed, felt him slump back with a groan. Light up a smoke. A hand appeared, dangling down where Catcher could see it, so he crept out, letting his body brush against those fingers. He looked around with wide, wary eyes.

He could sense the size of this building they were in, and it was big. _Huge. _It vibrated, it pulsed with life. So many smells! So many _people_ smells. But this room smelled like Logan. Maybe this was the den he went to when he was away from their cabin.

Catcher jumped onto the bed, made his way onto Logan's lap, and from there, crept up to his chest. Rough fingers found his throat, scratching, rubbing.

"It's okay, Catcher," the man sighed. "This here's my room. We'll wait out this storm, get through these damn holidays. For a little while we're gonna have to be sociable."

The man snorted softly, ground his smoke out in a small ashtray. Yawned, rubbed his face.

"I'm beat. Damn Sentinels really knocked the stuffin' outta me." He closed his eyes. "...'s what made me so late..." He slipped easily into sleep, and Dream Catcher took up his position between the man's arm and side, on duty in this new strange place. The night beast might find them here, too, and attack his man. He would make sure that did not happen.

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Logan showered and left his room before first light the next morning.

Catcher tried to leave with him but was gently pushed back inside, the door firmly closed. For a time he paced and meowed at the door but after a while he retreated to his safe place beneath the bed, still feeling a bit nervous about his new surroundings. Especially when alone. He wanted Logan to return.

But he had much to think about. The night had been eventful. He had caught and banished some terrible dreams, a total of three night beasts that had disrupted the slumber of three small children sleeping somewhere inside this building, this mansion. And he had done it all from Logan's den, had done it, by necessity, _without_ the usual 'bite-the-nearest-body-part' method he always used with Logan. He had simply concentrated very hard and drove the beasts away. In his head, in his _thoughts! _This was a most wonderful thing. He could feel his power, vibrating gently throughout his body. He had never felt so strong, so connected to it before.

But by nightfall he was thoroughly bored. He had accepted his new dream catching abilities as normal and was finished dwelling on his amplified talents. The strangeness of the little room had worn off. At midday he had emerged from his hiding place, jumped onto the chair by the window, spent the rest of the afternoon looking down at the yard below as it filled with impossible amounts of snow. All day long his ears twitched irritably to the sound of machines growling outside. Twice from his window he saw Logan walking around, pushing before him some sort of hideous roaring monster that carved a path through the mountains of white and threw it sideways in a bewilderingly furious blast.

And all day long the snow continued to fall.

When the man finally returned to his room that evening Catcher was ready. As Logan stepped through the door he sprang to his shoulder, purred into his ear while licking it thoroughly before draping his body around the man's neck, legs comfortably dangling. It was his second favorite place to be, the first being flat on the man's chest as they stretched out before their fireplace. Logan laughed, sat tiredly in the big chair.

"Hey, fella. How's your day been?" he said as he pulled his boots off. "I moved so much snow today, feels like I plowed the whole damn state o' New York. Can't keep up with it." Catcher slid into his lap, looked into his face. It was good to have his man back with him again.

"Alright, Catcher," Logan continued. "I know you're bored, locked up like this. Listen up now. I'm springin' ya. You just got to remember a couple things. This here's home base. You get tired o' the kids, wanna be alone, come on back. Nobody comes in here without my say-so. Your food'll always be here, an' your litter box. Be a good guest. Don't go takin' a dump in a corner somewhere, okay?"

Catcher was appalled. Of course he would do no such thing.

"You wanna give Cyke's shoe a try, well, that's okay by me. Those big damn gun-boats o' his'd be an easy target," Logan chuckled, rising to his feet. "Okay? Come on. I'm lettin' ya outta here. "

"M'rau!" Catcher replied. _Out! _He was ready.

"Yeah. Out. It's the goddamn holidays. Christmas Eve. Hardly anybody here, anyway, most of the kids've gone home. You can get to know the place without too much interference." He chuckled softly. "Kids catch a glimpse o' you, I guarantee you're gonna be mobbed. You'll be more popular than candy on Halloween. Or... presents at Christmas."

The man strode to his door, opened it. Dream Catcher remembered him doing this very same thing out at his cabin, when his broken leg had finally healed and he was allowed outside at last. He understood that this small den of Logan's was _home_, now, like their cabin was, and he thought of the rest of this massive building outside their door as their territory. A hunting ground, of sorts.

He was eager to explore, and slipped quickly from the room, keeping low and against the wall. From far away faint voices drifted, fading even as he listened. He made it to the stairs, pausing to sniff at the alluring scent rising up the stairway. Smoke? Oh yes, it _was_ smoke, and that meant fire, and _that_ meant fire_place_. He loved his fireplace back at the cabin. He spent much time in front of it, pleasantly dozing, basking in its deep, penetrating heat. _So_ good. He would find this fireplace, then, sit before it, and bake himself thoroughly.

As he descended the long stairway another special smell greeted him, again one of his favorite scents, but it confused him because it was the pungent spice of a pine tree, coming from indoors. How could _this_ be? How strange! But how wonderful! He had to find it, had to see this denizen of the forest inside this building, inside a _room_. How odd people were.

He encountered no one as he moved along. It was even larger than he thought, this place he was in. Room after room he ghosted past, down a very long hall, past silent, seemingly unoccupied wings branching off the main area. And then, finally, he found it. A very large room, with many odd uneven walls that created cozy little alcoves. Huge windows all across one side. A serene room, filled with padded couches and thick comfy-looking chairs. And there! A huge, stately pine tree. But it was unlike any pine tree he had ever seen.

It sparkled, it glittered. It was hung all over with shiny spheres, red ribbons and bright dangly things, tiny lights that winked and flashed. Catcher drew close, sniffed a needled branch. Yes, beneath its mantle of finery it surely was a regular pine, just like the ones in the woods. How did it get inside here? How did it get all these neat little toys hanging on it? Someone must have brought it in... just like he had been carried in from the forest. Someone must have dressed it. So it was a special tree, like he was a special cat. It belonged to someone. Catcher reached up, balancing easily on his steady hind feet, and swatted playfully at a shiny dangly, dancing right above his head. Oh, how fun! It swayed and bobbed, made a nice _tink! _as his paw hit it. He did it again, harder, and the little ball flew from the branch, bounced a few times over the rug and settled against a table leg.

Catcher readied a pounce but the soft thud of a shifting log caught his attention. It was a sound he knew well. Fire! _Heat! _Yes, the toy could wait.

This fireplace was _big. _It had a deep stone hearth and the front of it was covered by a sheet of glass instead of a wire grate like Logan's was. It cut down the pleasant sounds of crackling logs, and it also blocked much of the sweet smell of burning wood, so Catcher decided he preferred his own fireplace to this one. But still, even so, this was nice, too. It was hot. That was what he wanted. So wonderful, that heat. He sat down close before it, just short of the point of scorching, and closed his eyes in pure bliss.

His mind was drifting down into that lovely state of sleepy, heat-induced hypnosis when approaching footsteps and young, piping voices yanked him back to full wakefulness. He turned quickly, darted beneath the tree, working his way back against the wall, as far as he could get. It was too exposed, still, he knew he could be seen yet and with no time to even consider dashing from the room he climbed up onto a lower limb of the great tree. Better. Here he was surrounded by branches and needles, well out of sight except perhaps by the most determined seeker. His branch was too narrow to be comfortable though so he dug in his claws for balance, and prepared to wait it out.

Five children of various sizes entered, laughing, carrying bright boxes that they deposited around the great pine. Were any of them the dreamers of the night before? He wasn't sure. The children discovered the ornament by the table leg and hung it back on a branch. As they talked and played, looked out the great windows at the snow falling, another group came in, with more shiny boxes. Everyone gathered about the tree again, inspecting the gifts, hefting and shaking them, one after another.

And then two more people joined them, a black haired woman and a girl. Oh! The woman was Jubilee, Logan's mate. Catcher wondered if Logan would come down to this room eventually, too, since Jubilee was here. The girl she was with had short blonde hair, a wide mouth. Large, pale eyes. She also carried a ribboned box. There was something about the girl that seized Catcher's attention. He sniffed deeply, sorting through the myriad of smells to separate hers from the tangle. That _scent. _He knew it. Who was this girl? He knew her. He _knew_ her! He began to tremble.

One of the children sang out to the two that had just entered. "Oh, Amber! What took you so long?"

"I had to get my injection," the girl replied. "My mutation was starting to bother me again."

_Amber? _Amber! Amber of two summers ago, Amber of his kittenhood. Amber, who he had searched for so desperately, for so many months. It was her. She was _here! _He didn't question the probability of it or wonder how this miracle could have possibly occurred. Those things didn't occur to him. All that mattered was that Amber was here, alive and well, not deathly ill as he had seen her last, so long ago.

He tried to launch himself from the tree but his claws! They were imbedded so deeply in the branch he had to wrench them free, and as he struggled to do so he heard a boy's voice shout, "Hey everybody, look at the tree!" Chattering voices fell silent as they all turned and watched the pine tremble, the ornaments dance, with Catcher's efforts to free himself.

Hurry, hurry! It was _Amber! _At last his claws pulled from the wood and he leaped, lithe body rocketing out from the branches, a few ornaments tumbling away with the force of his exit. A couple kids shrieked in surprise, the ones nearest the tree fell back in fear as he hurtled from the branches. He ran to Amber, she stared down at him in stunned shock, hands over her mouth.

"Holy cats, what the blazes are you _doing_ here, Catcher?" Jubilee exclaimed. "I thought Wolvie was keeping you in his room!"

Amber's face had gone strangely pale. Was she alright? She wasn't still sick, was she? No, she smelled healthy enough. With trembling hands she picked Catcher up from the floor, stroking and kissing him, hugging him hard.

"Jubilee, Jubilee! This is- I can't believe it! I know this cat, he's mine! I told you about him, I told everyone, remember? My kitten Fluffy. Before I came here. My mother told me he ran away... oh _Fluffy_, my little Fluffer-Nut. I've missed you so!"

The children, recovering quickly from their fright, clustered noisily around them, oohing and aahing. A chorus of delighted cries filled the big room.

Amber was holding him a little too tightly. He arched, twisted a bit, trying for some room. Except for her and Jubilee all these people were strangers and they were being too familiar with him. Countless hands were reaching out to touch, running over his body, his head, feeling his tail, his legs. Inquisitive fingers even manipulated his hind toes and he jerked his foot away irritably. He was surrounded by eager faces, mouths throwing words at him. Where was Logan? Catcher knew the children meant no harm but it was all too much. He didn't want to run from Amber but he was at the limit of his tolerance.

"Catcher," a gruff voice called from the doorway. Everyone turned, everyone went silent once again. Amber's grip loosened and Catcher jumped down, trotted to Logan and leaped to his shoulder gratefully. Arranged himself in draped position, gazed happily at the miracle that was Amber's return to his life.

"Are we all here?" a voice called pleasantly from behind Logan as a man in a wheeled chair glided into their room. Catcher stared at him. "Children, have you brought your gifts, are you ready to have a wonderful Christmas Eve?"

Beneath the chorus of happy replies Logan murmured to Jubilee. "Layin' it on a little thick, ain't he?" Jubilee's hand went to her mouth, to cover the smile there.

The strange man slowly turned to them, his eyes fastened on Catcher. The cat sat up on Logan's shoulder. Their gazes locked, Catcher's head tipped sideways and he chattered strangely, little clicks coming from deep in his throat with whiskers thrust forward, as if he was following a fluttering bird on the other side of a window. There was something so _special_ about this man! He smelled of all-seeing power, of confidence, immense wisdom, and kindness. He was a nurturer, a leader and a warrior too, a fascinating blend of these remarkable traits, all in one remarkable man. Catcher had certainly never met anyone remotely like him before.

He decided this unique man had to be the one that had created the miracle of the glittering pine tree inside this wonderful room.

The children giggled at the cat's reaction, and Jubilee said, "Professor, meet Dream Catcher."

"Good Lord," the man murmured, "What an extraordinary animal."

"Hope you don't object, Chuck," Logan said. "He needs a place to stay until the storm's finished."

The professor seemed reluctant to turn his eyes away. "What? Oh, no, no, of course not, he is most welcome. This cat-Dream Catcher. He is a mutant. In every sense of the word. This is most incredible. I have never heard of an animal with mutant abilities."

The children gazed at the cat in awe. Catcher was unconcerned. What was all the fuss about? So he was good at what he did. Nothing too unusual about that, was there? He shook himself, and settled more comfortably around his man's neck, contented purr rumbling in his chest. He was enjoying all the interest, now that he was safely out of reach on his man's shoulder.

"Well now, children," the professor said, making a visible effort to pull his attention from the cat. "Let us begin our evening, shall we? Everyone is here, I see. Good, good! What shall we do first? How about a little sing-a-long? Who has a favorite Christmas carol you would like us all to sing?"

Logan was edging his way through the kids, to Amber, who stood in back of the others. He lifted Catcher from his shoulder, put him gently into Amber's eager arms.

"We have to talk, Amber. After the party. Hang around, okay?"

"Okay," Amber said, snuggling her face into Catcher's fur.

After carols were sung, gifts were handed out to each eagerly waiting recipient, and in a flurry of ripping paper and exclamations of joy, the children opened their presents. Hot chocolate and an immense plate of cookies arrived, and everyone scrambled to secure a steaming mug and a nice pile of sweets to dunk. Logan had by then explained to the group that Dream Catcher needed to be given space, and not mobbed by so many hands all at once, so Catcher was comfortable enough to leave Logan's shoulder for the rest of the evening, to play and explore. He had great fun charging around beneath the sheets of discarded wrapping paper, hiding in boxes and chasing ribbons dragged before him.

Throughout the evening Amber's eyes seemed never to leave him. Catcher went to her frequently, sat in her lap once for a long time, looking into her face, purring his welcome and his love to her. As she bent her head over him, tears fell from her eyes, tears that she quickly rubbed away into his fur and wiped from her face before lifting her head with a small, brave smile.

In no time at all, it seemed, the hour had become late. From his spot on the hearth Catcher watched the tired children begin to leave, singly, in twos and threes, carrying their gifts with them, promising to meet on Christmas Day tomorrow, to play together in the wonderland of snow that awaited them outside. Chuck himself escorted the last pair of happy children from the room. Only Amber, Jubilee and his man remained, and after Logan built up the fire again Catcher joined them as they sat silently together on the couch, watching the slow dance of the flames.

It had been a wild and very special evening. Catcher was very happy. Tired, too, and glad that the others had left and it was quiet, that he was alone now with his most favorite people in the world. He crept into his man's lap. Washed perfunctorily, and settled in for a good snooze.

But Amber began to speak, softly, hesitantly, and Catcher cocked an ear to listen.

"Logan? We don't really need to talk about it. You don't have to worry. About Fluff- about Dream Catcher, I mean. About me. He's... well, he's your cat now."

Catcher could feel Logan's unease. His belly had gone tight, his breathing quickened. Logan cleared his throat, fingers finding their way to Catcher's ears. "Naw, darlin', he was yours an' you ought t' have him back. He recognized you, he remembers you. Ain't right for me to keep him."

But Amber turned to face him, her ocher eyes wide and eloquent. "No. Don't do that to him. _Please. _You'll hurt him. He loves you. He belongs to you now, and you have to do the right thing."

"That's what I'm tryin' t' do," Logan said.

"Then you must keep him." She sighed, her voice hardly above a whisper. "It's alright. Really. It's enough for me to know that he's safe, that he found a home, and someone who cares about him." Catcher left Logan's lap to come to her. She enveloped him in a hug. "It's all I ever wanted, really. To know that my lost little Fluffy was alright." She sniffled a little. "And my wish came true. What a wonderful Christmas this is..."

With that Amber ran from the room.

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Catcher woke up, yawning and stretching, when Logan returned to his den. Pale, silvered light coming from without made the window softly glow, and Logan went to it, stood looking out, silently smoking one of his little brown sticks. He smelled of Jubilee. Catcher joined him, jumping to the chair beside him, gazing out into the night.

The snow had ceased at last, and the sky was black, blanketed with stars. The yard below was an almost featureless plain of undulating white hills, the occasional tree poking through, low bumpy mounds here and there suggesting where a shrub might be buried beneath. The paths his man had carved earlier were still evident but had filled in with several inches of snow. Everything glittered softly with starlight, and all was still, no wind, no movement.

Beside him, Logan sighed. He was thoughtful, preoccupied, his emotions smelling of a mix of contentment and disquiet. Catcher butted his arm, seeking a scratch.

"She's right, y' know. That li'l girl o' yours," he said, ruffling Catcher's furry cheek, stroking his ears. "An' besides, it ain't my decision, where you go, who ya want t' be with. It's yours, an' you made it." With a sigh he snubbed out his burning stick, and tossing his clothes over the chair, climbed into his bed.

Catcher settled into his spot between arm and ribs. "She's a brave kid," Logan murmured. "Deserves a good turn. If we ever needed some sort o' Christmas miracle, boy, it's now." He closed his eyes, yawning. His man dozed off quickly as usual but it took Catcher a while to find sleep, and when he did, he dreamed of Amber skipping through the halls of this place, waving and smiling, a mystical, magical cat made entirely of shimmering starlight trotting beside her.

Some time later he awoke abruptly, a growl forming in his throat, claws flexing. What was wrong? What had shaken him from his sound sleep? Was it the night beast, stalking, ready to seize his man in its terrible grip once again? No, no, it wasn't that. Not that at all. Something else was about to happen. The fur of his nape and spine began to bristle, he carefully surveyed the quiet room before jumping to the chair to look out at the yard below.

And... there. Something small moving down the path, pushing through the snow, pausing, moving forward again, its white fur hardly distinguishable from the mountains of snow all around it.

A small head lifted, turned. Catcher saw the tiny mouth open in a cry. He rose to his hind feet, began to pound the window with his paws, drumming his excitement. A cat, a _cat! _The creature looked his way, startled, then leaped, bunny-hopping off the path, appearing, disappearing, making its way toward the building. Near the snow-encrusted side of the jutting north wing the animal's final leap ended in a flail of legs and a faint cry of surprise as it disappeared from sight and did not appear again.

Behind him Logan was getting out of his bed. Catcher jumped to him, then back to the chair, anxiously looking out at the small depression in the snow that had swallowed the cat. He could still hear its faint cries of distress.

"I hear it, Catcher," the man assured him as he quickly pulled on his outdoor clothes. Catcher ran after him as Logan hurried down to the main level, through a long hallway, to an outside door. He leaped determinedly onto his shoulder when the man tried to keep him inside, digging in hard with his claws to tell Logan in no uncertain terms that no, he would _not_ be left behind.

They emerged into the bitter cold. The cat's cries came faintly from their left, before a tall, half-buried basement window. Logan began pushing snow away from the area with hands and feet, cursing softly, murmuring about a shovel, and Catcher thought he would never finish, never get it cleared away enough to find the cat. He held on hard as Logan abruptly went to his belly, arm extended deep into a sort of pit. Dream Catcher could see the darkened window in the wall, and part of a sheet of metal that curved before it. As Logan's arm swept carefully back and forth, scooping snow away, a pair of green, frightened eyes appeared just past his reach, framed by a white face, a beautiful, petite face accented by two orange streaks on the forehead.

Logan pushed himself far over the window well's edge, hanging precariously, Catcher balancing briefly on his man's unsteady backside, and gently picked up the frightened creature. She scrabbled and clung as he rolled from the hole and stood up. Back on his shoulder perch Catcher craned to see her but Logan pushed her beneath his coat and headed quickly indoors.

They went directly to his room. Catcher leapt to the bed, Logan tossed his coat aside and sat down in the big chair. The cat burrowed down, into Logan's shirt, against his skin, seeking cover, seeking warmth, wanting to be hidden. Catcher understood these feelings. Carefully he stepped to the chair's arm, then onto his man's lap. He sniffed at the mound beneath Logan's shirt. Except for wave after wave of deep shivering, the small animal didn't move. Cold, so cold she was...deep, down to the bone. He would help, he would offer this lost creature his body heat, too, as his man was doing. He stretched out in Logan's lap, pressing himself against her body, felt her respond with a slight shift of position. He wanted to wash her, sniff her from nose to tail, but knew these things had to wait until she absorbed enough warmth that she could let go of her paralyzing fright at coming so close to freezing to death.

By early dawn the little female had left Logan's lap, eaten the rest of Catcher's crunchies, and arranged herself in a compact little mound at the end of the bed, feet neatly tucked out of sight, orange tail wrapped around her snow-white body. Logan was snoring in his big chair, Catcher still nestled in his lap. But he was not asleep. He was watching the little female, feeling what she was feeling, dreaming her half awake dreams of cold and desperation. She was still afraid. Brittle cold was still in her bones, in her mind, she was preoccupied with it. She wanted to banish it, replace it with waves of life. Life to her was warmth right now, and the lack of enough of it kept fear's icy grip firm around her heart.

Catcher knew what he had to do.

He came to her, nosed her gently, licked her face, her eyes. She turned to him, purring softly as he cleaned her. _Come. Follow me, _he purred as he licked. _Come and see. It is good. It is very hot. We can bake ourselves, together. Come..._

Stiffly she rose, stretched delicately, and trailed after him as he left the room. He made his way back to the big room with the tree and the fireplace, led her directly to the hearth, pleased that though there were no flames what was left of the logs glowed red and orange and still gave off the heat they were seeking. The two cats settled as close to the glass as they could get, almost touching it, face to face.

_Oh...better... _the little cat sighed after a while, truly relaxing for the first time. He washed her again, and she returned the favor. She began to look around, studied the tree for a good long time. Catcher felt strangely proud of it, the great, decorated pine looking so wondrous, and inside a _room! _All because of what his people had done. He already thought of Chuck as belonging to him.

_One of my people brought it in here, _he told her. _It is special, like I am._

_Why are you special? _she asked him politely.

_I am a hunter in the night. I keep the dark beast away from Logan, my man. Away from the children here, too. Logan belongs to me. This tree, I think it belongs to Chuck._

_It is a Christmas tree, _she said. _It is special, yes, as you are. I wish I was special. _

_But you are. What is Christmas? Why a Christmas _tree_? What does it mean?_

_I think it is a symbol. Of this thing they call Christmas. It means all good things. It means happiness, and lots of food to eat. It means family. And love. And magic, too._

_How do you know these things? You are very wise, I think. _Catcher said. _Have you seen Christmas before?_

_No. I dreamed it. I dream so many things. I dreamed this tree, and you, and your Logan. I dreamed of endless snow, and losing my way. _

_Did you dream of us finding you? _

_I dreamed of being found. But not by you._

Her scent was heavy now, weighted with sorrow, and she would say no more. They were silent for a long time. He wished he could catch her sadness the way he caught the dreams, and chase it away, never to return again. He knew sadness very well. His months of searching for Amber had been the saddest, the loneliest time of his life.

Amber, dear Amber. He was so fortunate to have her back in his life. He contemplated his dream of the other night, Amber running joyously, followed by a cat whose coat was made of shimmering stars. He remembered the trauma of his broken leg, and how the injury had stopped his search for her, and led him to his man, Logan. This small creature's brush with death had led her here, to Amber. There was a symmetry in these events that pleased him. Through trials came reward.

He knew, then, that the starlight cat of his dream was this one huddling before him now. Amber belonged to this little waif, and she belonged to Amber. There was no real problem after all. The two had just not met yet. The certainty, the rightness of these thoughts settled into his mind with the same calm conviction, the same wash of happiness he always felt when he thought about his man. This was they way things were meant to be. All that had happened to her was supposed to happen, to bring her to this place.

He nosed her again. _Come._ _Follow me._

_I do not want to leave this heat, _she answered. _What could be so important?_

_Someone waits for you. Your person, a girl. _

The little female got to her feet, as he knew she would, smelling of hope, and cautious excitement. _How do you know this? _she asked, following.

_I dreamed it, _Catcher replied. _I saw it. She's here, she waits, we will find her. Come!_

_Does she have yellow hair, and golden cat's eyes? Did you dream of her running, and laughing?_

_Yes, I did! She does! _

_It was she that found me. A girl made of sunshine. A girl of amber and gold. _

Catcher stared at the small cat before him. How could this have happened? He was a catcher of _bad_ dreams! What did it mean? Was this another talent he had, yet untapped, that had waited for just the right moment to show itself to him? How amazing this was. He was very anxious to sit quietly and dwell on this new development. But not now. He wanted to help Amber and this little cat first, bring them together and bring to a close this most important mission he was on. Tonight, he would ponder this thing tonight, yes. In his man's lap.

The little female was excited by these new developments, and she expressed it by tackling Catcher playfully. Briefly they tussled, rolling, breaking apart. Catcher led her from the room in a happy chase, haring down the hallway, bounding up the stairs, up, past Logan's floor, up to the level where the smells of the children were strongest.

Slowly now, cautiously, they made their silent way down the corridor. Most of the rooms were empty. They checked each one, sniffing at closed doors, peering into open rooms. They went to another long hallway, began there, and after sniffing past many more doors, finally found the one they were looking for.

She was asleep in her bed, her body a small mound beneath a tangle of pale pink sheets. The first beams of morning sun had found her, long golden rays reaching through the window, glowing soft against her skin, her touseled yellow hair.

_Look! Here is your girl of gold, _Catcher said. _Here is Amber. _

The little female stepped through the doorway.

_Amber. Yes, of course, _she said. _She will find me now. Just as I had dreamed! On a plain of pink, in the hot, hot sun. After a snowstorm! Oh, Catcher, never have so many of my dreams come true! _She turned to him. _You have brought magic to this place, Dream Catcher. To me. There is more to you than you realize, so much more than catching dreams. You are not just an extraordinary cat. I think you are a miracle._

_No, no, it is you that is the miracle, _Catcher purred.

With a quick lick to his cheek she trotted to Amber's bed, leaped onto it. Catcher crouched down comfortably, watched Amber wake, watched her sleepy eyes struggle to focus on the cat before her, listened to her small gasp of surprise. He stood as she spotted him by her door.

"Oh, Dream Catcher," Amber breathed, sitting up. "Oh, my, who- who is this? Can this be real? Who have you brought to me?" Slowly she held out her hand, fingers trembling. The little female sniffed it, rubbed her cheek against it, and climbed, purring, into Amber's warm, sun-filled lap. Tears were sparkling in Amber's eyes. She laughed softly, the sound a shaky mix of joy and disbelief.

"Oh...who are you, pretty little girl?" Amber whispered, caressing a soft white cheek. "Can you tell me your name? You're _so_ beautiful. Like sun sparkling on snow. Or the stars in the sky."

Silently Catcher turned away and left them, trotting quickly through the hall, down the stairs. It had all come out well. It was very good. He thought about his man, wondered if he was awake yet. He wanted to be with Logan, now. To be held for a while. He hoped his man wouldn't be outside all day again, pushing that hideous snow-eating monster around. He wanted to sit on him. Before the fire. By the Christmas tree. Yes. That would be so nice.

He found Logan in a sunny room that held many faint but nice smells of food and cooking, sitting at a large table with Jubilee, hunched over a steaming cup of coffee. Catcher jumped up, butted Logan's cheek in greeting.

"Well, if it ain't Fluffer-Nut," Logan said. "Where've you been? Where's that little kitty-cat we fished outta the snow? Got some plans for her."

Plans? Oh, no need for that. It's all taken care of. Catcher stepped over his coffee cup, running the length of his body across Logan's face. Back again the other way, ending with a flourish of his tail sweeping beneath his man's nose.

"You seem mighty proud o' yourself," the man remarked, giving him an ear scratch.

"He looks like the cat that ate the canary," Jubilee said. "Give it up, Catcher. What've you been doing?"

The sound a child's voice came faintly to Catcher's ears. Both Catcher and his man turned to the kitchen doorway expectantly. A happy, lilting voice, singing breathlessly, accompanied by the faint thud of feet descending the stairs. Amber, of course! And only Catcher knew who was with her.

"Ohh... Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way! Oh what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh, _hey!"_ Amber sang. There was a pause, a faint meow reached them, and a giggling voice said, "I know, I know! Are you ready? Set? _Go!" _She was running, joyful song and pounding feet receding down the hallway.

Catcher jumped from the table, looked back at Logan, who was smiling broadly at Jubilee. "I do believe Amber may have found your little snow-bunny, don't you think?" Jubilee laughed.

"Darlin', that's just too damn good to be true!" He sounded excited, he smelled pleased. Catcher was pleased, too, and anxious for Logan to follow him so he could show him that this was _not_ too damn good to be true, because it was Christmas, and Christmas meant magic, and love, and all good things.

His people rose from the table, Logan with coffee cup in hand, and followed Catcher through the hall, down to the big room that held the Christmas tree. Amber turned from the great tree as they entered. In her arms was the white cat, resting against her chest, blinking contentedly back at them, front feet kneading and kneading.

"Look," Amber said, her smile radiant. "This is Miracle. She came here because of magic. Christmas magic! Dream Catcher brought her to me. "

Catcher looked at the little cat. The name was just right, it fit her mystery, her enchantment.

"That's a fine name you picked out," Logan said.

"I didn't pick it. Miracle told it to me. Logan? I was thinking...Catcher, he has a... a purpose now, doesn't he? A job that he does, something he's good at. He's needed, in a grown-up way. Isn't that what Professor X meant, when he said Catcher's a mutant?"

"That's right, darlin'," Logan said.

"Well, I was thinking... I think Miracle has powers, too, I think she, and Catcher, well...they made this happen. I think she helped him. So do you think that she'd be allowed to... you know...stay here? With me? Because Miracle is a good kitty and she brought us all together, didn't she?"

"Indeed, Amber, you are exactly right." Chuck's voice came from behind. They all turned, surprised by his silent entrance. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, or break up your gathering. I have been restless, thinking about this cat of yours, Logan. This catcher of dreams. And the little miracle that he brought to us last night."

Catcher was happy Chuck had joined them. He went to him, stepped into his lap, rubbed his face against Chuck's chin. Miracle raised her head to gaze at them.

_He is good, _Catcher told her.

_Yes. He is all-seeing, all-knowing, _she answered. _He has a plan for us. _

A plan! This news made Catcher a trifle anxious. What was going to happen to them? He jumped back into his man's lap.

_Did you dream this, too? _Catcher asked.

_No... I just...know it, somehow. Listen!_

"Are you aware, Logan, that Catcher chased the nightmares away from three children here, the night before last?" Chuck continued.

"He-? Well hell. No. I wasn't."

"Really?" Jubilee said. "That is so awesome!"

"Yes. Awesome," Chuck agreed. "And Miracle, here, while not a mutant in the truest sense of the word, has the talent of precognition. And an ability to... bring events together, if you will, to help things along that are destined to happen. And Catcher has a bit of this ability too. Working together, these two cats are something to be reckoned with."

"They make things happen," Amber said. "Good things! Miracles!"

"They are a positive force," Chuck agreed.

"So what's all this leadin' to?" Logan asked. "What're ya sayin' Chuck?" Catcher liked the way his man cut through all the talk, to the meat of the matter.

"I am saying I would like for Dream Catcher and Miracle to be a part of this school. To be welcome residents, earning their keep by catching dreams, by helping to make positive things happen for the troubled youngsters here."

Amber gasped softly, hugged Miracle tighter.

_We are a team, _the little female said to him as she licked Amber's cheek. _We are needed. Together we can do much good in this place._

Catcher thought about the forest, and their snug little cabin, waiting for him. Did this mean he would never see these things again? That he would stay in this place forever, and not be able to hunt the mouse trails any more?

Logan understood, of course, and expressed Catcher's fears.

"Don't know how that'd sit with Catcher," his man said. "He's a forest cat, he loves bein' outside in the woods, away from people and bother. An' he's used to havin' a choice as to where he goes an' who he wants to be with."

"Of course, Logan, I would not deny him any of that," Chuck said. "A cat door can be installed. He will certainly be allowed to come and go as he wishes. He and Miracle will have complete access to the outdoors, any time they desire. It will be his choice, if he wants to stay. We can simply see how it goes, and proceed from there."

"Hey, when the weather gets better, you can show him the route to the cabin, let him see the way," Jubilee suggested. "Then he could go back and forth on his own, right? It's not too far. Maybe Miracle'd like to come out there for a visit sometime, too."

Catcher and Miracle looked at each other. Things were happening, their destinies were falling into place in a wonderful way, in perfect harmony.

"What d' you think, kid?" Logan asked Amber. "You like this idea?"

"Yes, oh yes. I do. Let's let them try it. Would you like Catcher to stay here sometimes, Miracle? Do you want to work with him, and help bring us all good things?"

"Catcher? You up for this? What do you say?" Logan asked him.

Dream Catcher thought about his man's words of earlier, how most people really were okay if you gave them a chance. This certainly had been found to be true. And he liked very much the idea of helping, of creating good things for the children with his powers, he and Miracle together. He wanted to see more of Chuck, too. He had the idea that Chuck might work some of his magic on him, as he had on the Christmas tree, and show to him the shining spheres and sparkling lights of his truest potential, that lay deep inside his wild, forest-cat heart. This, too, would be a very good thing.

_Dream-cat, we must answer. They wait, _Miracle said.

_Come, then! _Catcher exclaimed. _Let us show them our answer!_

They rose from their prospective laps as one, and jumped into Chuck's. They circled, they snuggled, they settled down on the man's lap, facing each other with legs all a-tangle. His hands found them, stroking and rubbing, drawing out of them with ease the soft vibration of happy, contented purrs.

"I do believe this is a yes," Chuck murmured.

Nothing more was said. But all of them, the two men, the young woman, the girl and the pair of cats, were all thinking the same thing.

What a truly wonderful, magical, and amazing miracle this Christmas had turned out to be!


End file.
